There was another cause--we fiercely strove In an ambitious race;--but worse than all We met, two rival combatants in love; My brother was the victor, and my fall, Maddening my jealous pride, turned love to gall, There was no lingering kindness more. We parted, Each on his separate way, the severed-hearted. For years we met not: met not till we stood, Silent and moody, by our father’s bed, Each with his hatred seemingly subdued Whilst in the presence of that reverend head: Surely our steadfast rancour might have fled When that good father joined our hands and smiled, And died believing we were reconciled! And so we might have been; but there were those Who found advantage in our longer hate; Who stepped between our hearts and kept us foes, And taught that hatred was inviolate:-- Fools to be duped by such! But ah, too late True knowledge and repentance come; and back I look in woe upon life’s blighted track! We were the victims of the arts we scorned; We were like clay within the potter’s hand: And so again we parted. He adorned The courtly world: his wit and manners bland The hearts of men and women could command. I too ran folly’s round, till tired of pleasure, I sought repose in tranquil, rural leisure. Ere long he left his native land, and went Into the East with pomp and power girt round. And so years past: the morn of life was spent, And manhood’s noon advanced with splendour crowned; They said ’mid kingly luxury without bound, He dwelt in joy; and that his blessing ever Flowed like that land’s unmeasured, bounteous river. And the world worshipped him, for he was great-- Great in the council, greater in the field, And I too had my blessings, for I sate Amid my little ones: the fount unsealed Of my heart’s wronged affections seemed to yield A tenfold current: and my babes, like light Unto the captive’s gaze, rejoiced my sight. I dwelt within my home an altered man; Again all tenderness and love was sweet, ’Twas as if fresh existence had began, Since pleasant welcomes were sent forth to greet My coming, and the sound of little feet Was on my floor, and bright and loving eyes Beamed on me without feigning a disguise. As the chill snows of winter melt away Before the genial spring, so from my heart Passed hatred and revenge; and I could pray For pardon, pardoning all; my soul was blessed With answered love, and hopes whereon to rest My joy in years to come; I asked no more, The cup of that rich blessedness ran o’er.